


Things I Cannot Recall

by turntechgodstar



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-11
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-30 22:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turntechgodstar/pseuds/turntechgodstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some things John wishes he could forget. Dave Strider is one of those things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. McDonald's

**Author's Note:**

> hahaha, well so this is my first attempt at a chapter fic so bear with me.

There are some things I wish that never happened at all. 

Dave Strider is one of those things, with his stupid white blond hair, and unnerving red eyes, and sunglasses that I spent good money on that I'll never get back.

Dave Strider who left an opened ring pop on my bedroom floor, and subjected me to a war with sugar ants. 

He was in almost every single one of my classes since the second semester of our sophomore year in high school, and believe me, he didn’t go unnoticed. 

In fact it was practically painful sitting in front of him every single day for an hour and a half. His aura was literally suffocating. And annoying. 

Dave kicked. A lot. If it was against the side of my chair, his shoe laces clinked against the metal of his desk. A tic, tic, tic, tic, and a pause. And then he’d pick right back up where he left off. Whenever the teacher called on him, he always went utterly still. It was almost funny. 

We never spoke a word to each other. Actually, wait, that’s a lie, he did ask me for his pen once, when he accidentally flung it to the floor. The cap was chewed and twisted, and I remember turning in my seat to hand it over. 

He cleared his throat and gave a nod, and that was that. I don’t think I ever got a word in. 

I never thought much about it. 

I don’t think anyone ever did. 

He was just “that one kid from Texas who wears sunglasses indoors”.

Anyways, I remember heading down to the McDonald’s on the walk home. Dad mentioned he would be working late that night on some business type thing that businessmen do, so I had figured a quarter pounder and a coke would hold me over. Growing boys do need sentience.

I had already firmly decided that was what I wanted, but when I had walked in, I stared at the menu a bit longer until the cashier had cleared his throat.

And there he was, shades and all: Dave Strider.

I squinted, even though he was right in front of me. 

“…Dave?”

He went rigid, just like in class, except I saw it face to face for the very first time. 

“Welcome to McDonald’s, can I h-help you.” Dave strained, his jaw literally clenched and ears burning red, accent thicker than ever. I could feel a fit of giggles bubbling up in my chest but I couldn’t bring myself to let them out. 

I should have.

“Double quarter pounder, and a coke, my good sir,” I remember snickering, handing out the cash I had dug out of my back pocket, and watched as his shaky freckled hand reached out to grab it.

Dave stared at the register for a moment, still disoriented, or at least so I think, until he finally managed to get everything in order and shuffled through the change. It took probably three times as long as any of the other cashiers would’ve. He even dropped my change all over the floor.

“Fuck,” I heard him curse under his breath from where I stood, but I pretended it slipped by. Just like the string of other profanities that followed shortly after.

We stood in idle silence until my to-go order number was called. I gathered my things together, my bag clenched in on hand, and my drink in the other. I glanced back at Dave one more time, before giving him a slight nod and a wave despite my hands being full, and he gave this smile back. I’m not even sure if it would be on the borderline of a legitimate smile, even. His face just twitched in an upward direction.

That one “smile” swept me up into a hurricane I wish I could forget. 

Fuck McDonald’s.


	2. Grounded

Dave Strider once got me in so much trouble that I was grounded for a month.

Yeah, you heard me right—an entire month.

And it started off with a “Yo,” so soft that I almost didn’t hear it that day.

I wish I hadn’t.

He caught me in the hallway while I was adjusting the strap of my backpack, and I almost couldn’t believe it. We both kind of stood still in a checkmate for a long time.

”..About the McDonald’s shit—” he started and I waved my hand, offering a smile instead.

I remember how bright his face was under those dark shades, even if it was just for a moment. He shuffled quickly to find his ground again and straighten his expression.

I can’t recall what we talked about on the way to class that day, but I can’t forget that twitchy smile, that southern twang and the faint stutter that would sneak up whenever he said more than just a handful of words. 

When we made it to Biology class, we even voluntarily partnered up to work on the lab that day. And before I knew it, I was punching him in the arm and he was giggling up a storm. 

It shouldn’t ever be that easy, but it was with him.

This went on for days. And those days turned into weeks. and one day, for some reason, for some stupidly dumb reason I stopped him after class.

“We should go do something—I don’t feel like going right back home!” I pleaded, tugging on his one strapped backpack. 

Dave never gave a straight answer. “What do you mean, do something.”

“Exactly that!” I explained with a huff. “Something!”

He only gave a snort in reply.

“C’mon Dave, there’s a woodsy area not too far from my house—it’ll be fun!”

I wish I hadn’t asked him to go.

“Fine, I’ll go, Jesus Christ don’t get your panties twisted.”

—

“You’re slower than a goddamn turtle with no legs, Egbert, what are you even doing back there?” He called back to me—at least so I think. It was some ridiculous metaphor, and sometimes they all end up blurring into one long run on sentence that I don’t even bother batting an eye at.

His voice faded out, as I wandered off through the trees, and down the pathless green in front of me. Dave took the hint and turned around.

I could hear the river not too far off from where we stood, and peering over my shoulder, I gestured for him to follow suit. The silence hovered thick in the air for a long while.

I watched as Dave gazed up at the tall trees, unable to read his exact expression but he looked serene. 

“You know,” I started, my arms stretched up towards the sky. “You’re really not as intimidating as everyone makes you out to be.”

His face scrunched up, small folds and creases forming around his nose. “Intimidating, huh?”

“Yeah,” I laughed. And he laughed too. 

We talked about the Washington sky, and the grass and the breeze (despite the fact I heard Dave’s teeth chattering every now and then, what a big baby). We talked about everything and nothing, and yet even after those hours we spent together, I still knew little to nothing about him. 

I wish it could’ve stayed that way.

It wasn’t until the sun started to set when we found it. A junk car in a small clearing, with a key still in the ignition. 

It took us a few minutes to pry the doors open, but we managed it, and soon we were both sitting in the deserted car, my hands on the wheel and Dave reclined in the backseat like we had owned it for years. 

“Turn it on.” 

“What, no way dude, there’s no way this thing’ll start.” 

“Then why not?”

“Because fuck you, that’s why.”

But I turned it anyway and the engine sputtered. We both turned to look at each other with wide eyes, goofy smiles curling upwards and Dave leaned forward to watch eagerly.

I gave the pedal a few pushes and the next thing I knew, my face pressed against an air bag, and the front of the car was wrecked. I turned my head, and Dave turned his towards me. 

“That was..”

“Fucking dope.”

He said it with the straightest face I had ever seen, and I remember almost peeing my pants right there in the driver’s seat.

I almost got away with that entire fiasco that day.

Dad didn’t really like the answer I gave to him about where his son had been for the past three hours, and why he had a gash on his cheek (which Dave didn’t even warn me about, that asshat). Not to mention the finger wagging I got for tracking mud in the house, but I couldn’t bring myself to lie to him. 

When I told Dave the next day at school what happened, he wouldn’t let it go.

And after a few more playful punches and chuckles, we decided that it was worth it.


End file.
